


Molecule

by orphan_account



Series: Phil Coulson/Clint Barton Threesomes [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Comeplay, Electrocution, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sounding, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:43:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is taken care of by his two very caring, loving doms. By taken care of I mean they sexually torture him for all three of their mutual enjoyment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molecule

**Author's Note:**

> For a series of prompts I was given on tumblr asking for: bondage, CBT (cock and ball torture), sounding and orgasm delay/denial.
> 
> If you're worried about the addition of Tony harshing your Clint/Coulson buzz, he's more of a facilitator (providing them with awesome bespoke creations for their sexual decadence) and then joining in. This fic mainly focuses on Clint's experience and is told completely from his point of view. Phil soothes and comforts him through it whilst Tony controls all the things that are stimulating Clint.
> 
> Beta read by the very encouraging Dunicha :)
> 
> Thanks to all the prompters, too!

On paper it makes no sense - the flighty Hawkeye with Tony Stark are an odd enough combination, but then, it's Tony Stark, and he's never cared for doing what's expected of him. And Clint with Phil Coulson makes even less sense - he's all straight lines and sense while Clint's a frenetic tangle. But the last edge of the triangle they form - Stark and 'Agent' - the nickname which stuck - makes the least sense of all. 

 

But all three of them have carved out their own individual places in the world, and they carve out even more to fit the others in with them. They're three parts of the same molecule; Tony explained it like that once and it made sense to Clint - the three of them stuck to the others, holding on to make a fourth thing that's different to the sum of it's parts. 

 

They're still brash, though, in their ways. Phil's quiet put-downs and Tony's more vocal ones, the three of them snarking and posturing sometimes, fighting for some sort of pointless dominance. Anyway, it's all for show, part of what they are, and Clint doesn't mind it one bit. Not when they're like this, with the two of them circling around him, telling him just how well they'll take care of him, how he's the centre of their atom, the nucleus that they orbit around.

 

It's so much better when it’s the three of them doing this. When it was just Clint and Phil it was good, and Phil took care of him, but with two, there's always someone kissing him softly, stroking his hair and telling him just how good he is at taking whatever the other's doing to him. It makes him feel so wrapped up in love he almost can't take it sometimes, like it'll make him burst. It makes him hold on tighter, fingers twined with whoever's hand is in his. And they always hold on, no matter what. 

 

Tony's stroking Clint's hair as he lazily pushes into his mouth, cock red and rigid and grounding as Phil ties ropes around his legs, ankles and knees bound to stirrups and leg braces. He already feels exposed, more so when something clicks and his legs are held open wide, immoveable. 

 

There's the soft, warm press of a kiss to his inner thigh, so Phil's sitting there between his legs, kissing him everywhere and stroking his cock, but Clint can’t move to see it, he’s facing Tony who has his hand on his jaw to hold him there. There are slick fingers circling his entrance and pressing in, and it’s just the start of it, but he still moans around Tony’s dick. 

 

“You alright there?” Tony asks, pulling out to look down on him with those deep, beautiful eyes of his. He looks so calm and kind and warm, all the hard edges of his snark and his bullshit rounded off til he’s as sweet as he ever lets himself be. Clint grins and nods. “I’m good,” he says, tipping his jaw to ask for a little more. Tony brushes his thumb over his jaw and presses back in to Clint’s mouth. Soon enough he’ll be fucking his throat til Clint’s drunk on it, coming in his mouth as Phil finishes up the prep before he hands over to Tony to properly run the show, but for now it’s lazy and sweet.

 

A plug, not so thick but quite long, with some sort of electrode things on it that Clint only understands up to the point of ‘feels bad but in a good way’ is pressed into him. Tony made them, or modified them; again, Clint’s not sure. Phil and he figure out all that stuff and then Clint gets to play with it, or - well. All three of them play with it. 

 

There’s e-stim pads on his thighs, where his muscles will cord and bunch and spasm uselessly when Tony revs up the power. A complicated binding goes around the base of his cock and then his balls, separating them and squeezing them taut so whatever kind of punishment his tormentors choose to give them can be as effective and specific as possible. Some other tiny electrodes are stuck to them, too, til there’s just a mass of wires neatly trailing off from him.

 

Straps bind him further to the chair, around his waist and his chest and his arms, so all he can freely move is his head, but not really, since Tony’s moved behind him and moved the headrest thing down so he can fuck the length of his throat. Clint had them film it once, to see his sword swallowing skills in action, taking a cock as far down his throat as possible, being used as just another hole to fuck. It’s easier somehow at this angle not to gag, and he takes Tony’s dick easily, like he was made for it, and a little bloom of pride sits in his chest at being so good at this. 

 

Tony shoves in all the way and Clint can’t breathe, waits it out patiently as Tony shallowly fucks him without letting him get any air, so that he’s panting when he finally does pull out enough to let him get it. Clint feels his own cock jerk in arousal at being used so thoroughly, and feels another kiss against his thigh. He’s so hard, the bindings just making his dick even more uselessly solid, but he’s fine with it, it’s already making him see the horizon of orgasm where they’ll make him dance as long as they decide.

 

Phil’s suddenly where Tony was, at Clint’s side and stroking his neck where Tony’s cock is sliding back and forth. “So good, baby,” he coos with wonder, “you aren’t even choking at all.”

 

Tony pulls out and moves to the other side and then he’s coming, thick warm cum that he shoots straight into Clint’s mouth where Phil’s holding it open. He squeezes the last drops into Clint’s mouth and then the two of them wait to watch Clint push his tongue forward to show just how much he’s savouring it. Phil quietly swears as Tony chuckles and moves away; Phil’s the one with the thing about cum whereas Tony doesn’t seem to care so much. “Hold it in your mouth,” Phil whispers, scooping an errant dribble back to his lips. Clint nods, effectively gagged and feeling gloriously decadently disgusting. Phil’s pupils are wide and black as he drinks in the  sight. He won’t be able to stop himself from swallowing soon enough, but Clint determines to try his best to give Phil what he wants and hold out as long as he can.

 

Tony settles himself on the stool between Clint’s legs where he knows the control panel is, underneath his spread legs where a series of dials and read outs tell him exactly what’s happening. He pulls out a couple of little clamps with their own wires and clips them onto Clint’s nipples. They hurt enough to draw out a moan even before anything has happened, and Phil strokes his hand over Clint’s where it’s bound to his side. He pushes a small ball into his hand and Clint nods his understanding; if it gets too much he’ll let go and Jarvis himself will shut off any power that’s going through him. As lost in it as Clint gets, neither Tony nor Phil ever get so carried away that they don’t notice the ball, but it’s a nice failsafe nonetheless. He’s never actually used it except as a test. 

 

Phil and Tony share a nod before Tony goes back to checking all the wires, then he turns on the ones on Clint’s thighs at their lowest setting, making something like a soft warm hum flow into his muscles. It’s like a faint twitch or a muscle falling asleep, but once Tony ups the voltage it’s a more urgent buzz, the twitch more of a spasm that has the muscles flexing uselessly. Tony stops and they go back to normal as he tries the tiny wires on his nipples. They’re more sensitive and have Clint gasping, his balls more sensitive still, Phil stroking his cheek and telling him how well he’s doing and how he knows he can take a lot more. 

 

The ones in his ass are more intense still, but none of them so far are bad pain, just warm humming vibrations that aren’t quite like anything else. They’ll get to be too much later, when Tony’s alternating between frying his nipples and his balls, fucking his ass with a machine and massaging his dick til he’s an incoherent mess, but right now it’s just pleasant. It’s simple and sweet and has the most delicious promise of much much more. 

 

Tony flicks one of Clint’s balls with his finger, and somehow that jolts him enough to be swallowing, gasping an apology as soon as he does it to amused promises that it’s fine. Tony cranks up the electric current on Clint’s balls and once Clint’s used to it he asks for more. Phil leans in to kiss his forehead as Tony ratches it up again, again when Clint grits out that he wants more still. “I’m gonna sound you later,” Tony says in warning as he raises the voltage even higher. “You won’t want so much then.” 

 

Clint feels himself thrust uselessly against the straps and the ropes, the stimulation on his balls feeling like he’s having the most intense humming blowjob confined solely on them. Then Tony lowers that and turns on the ones in his ass again, and THAT feels like his whole body’s being turned inside out. 

 

He realises he’s swearing when Tony turns it down again, but he begs for more. Tony turns on the nipple ones again and that more than anything has his cock straining, begging on it’s own to be touched. 

 

After a while of it - how long, Clint couldn’t say; these sessions always seem timeless - Tony turns everything down to a pleasant yet unmistakeable hum and brings out the sound. It’s about nine inches long, a thin smooth length of metal, about a third of an inch thick. He almost drops the ball when he sees it and the way Tony looks as he holds it up to show him, predatory and sure. But he doesn’t. They’ve done this before but never with the electricity, and he so wants to try that too, and they’re actually going to do it tonight. 

 

Clint nods and swears and shakes his head as Tony gently but surely presses the tip of the sound into the hole in Clint’s dick. It’s lubed and warmed and fucking weird. No matter how many times this kind of thing’s happened to him it still falls on that edge of ‘wrong’ and ‘bad’ that makes it feel so good. So filthy and edgy and oh god he can’t believe he’d let these guys, these _men_ do this to him, but shit damn it feels amazing, and Tony pulls it and pushes it a couple of times and it feels like he’s being jerked off from the _inside_.

 

Phil pets his hair, which he realises now is wet with sweat, and offers him reassurance and praise that turns into a soft murmured blanket of ‘it’s alright, you’re ok, it’s safe’ as Tony attaches an electrode to the end of the sound and turns it on. 

 

The white wall of blank sensation, neither good nor bad, just _a lot_ , stops as soon as it’s begun and Clint looks between Phil and Tony because he doesn’t know why, but he dropped the ball goddammit, and has to remember how to speak and explain that no it’s really fine, honest to god please whatever you do, DON’T stop, so they cautiously get back to it and Clint loses himself again pretty fast, though staying aware of the stupid ball.

 

There’s no question of Clint coming, not til both Phil and Tony have decided he’s had enough. He begs anyway though, because sometimes they let him almost get there, with the sound thrumming the orgasm out of him and stopping when Tony flicks his balls again or randomly cranks up the voltage on the leg things. Phil softly reminds him he can’t come yet anyway, not with all the bindings on his poor, pretty little cock, but it doesn’t stop him from straining at them, pleading and crying and sobbing with the need to come, his entire world dialed down to his cock and balls and his prostate, shocked and stimulated and so ready, beyond ready to come and come like a fountain. 

 

Phil’s shhing him and stroking him and being so sweet even though he set this up! He put Clint here because he’s evil, he’s cruel and he’s awful and he knows exactly what Clint needs, what he craves, and what he shouldn’t have too, denying him orgasm after orgasm with a traitorous word to Tony who eases back off every time. 

 

When Clint’s at the end of his tether, feeling like he’s actually going to die if he doesn’t come, like that’s a thing - people can die from not getting to come, or their dicks fall off you goddamn bastards, it was definitely on the internet that that’s a thing that happens, Tony does the unthinkable: untying the bindings around Clint’s balls. It feels foreign, with Clint now so used to them being restricted, he’s thrown off by the movement as Tony pulls on them and turns up the current again. He squeezes them like he’s trying to make Clint come, and it hurts so good Clint’s off again, out of his head and swimming in a beautiful world of endorphins and frustration and confused swear words as Phil keeps him anchored with his cool hands on his skin. 

 

He’s pretty sure he comes at one point, but it’s just a false alarm, no cum and nothing but hoarse screams and whimpers as it all keeps going. Tony teases his poor balls, pulling on them cruelly and jerking Clint’s cock as he does it, til at some point, a decision is made that Clint’s paid his dues or whatever this is and he can come. They’ve done it before, letting him get right there and then pulling away and denying him but this time they don’t, the sound, the current in his balls, his ass, his nipples and his legs, Tony’s hand pulling and pushing him into a sobbing orgasm around the sound, the metal sliding out with the cum as Clint writhes as much as he can, the straps straining and the stirrups clattering as he struggles uselessly. It feels so perfectly excellently world-endingly wonderful and Clint’s forgotten what he is beyond sex, because there is nothing else, he doesn’t even remember his name, nor those of these two angel-demons who’ve brought him here to this heaven hell world of bliss. 

 

There’s a mouth on his suddenly and Clint opens his eyes to find it’s Tony, and the salty-blandness he’s passing into his mouth is Clint’s own cum. He pushes it out on reflex and he knows when it starts to come back to him that it’s because Phil likes that and that in a minute Phil’ll be fucking him too, while he’s all floppy and ruined, and it seems like such an effort but he’s happy for it to happen cause Phil and Tony’ll do all the work cause they’re awesome, really, both of them are. They won’t leave Clint like this. They’ll take care of him.

 

There’s a few faraway pinches as electrodes are removed and straps and bindings are undone, and the three of them end up on a bed that Clint’s not sure even existed before his orgasm manifested the universe. He’s sandwiched between them, malleable as marshmallow fluff as Phil works him open a little more and fucks him on his front, filling him up with even more love and adoration while Tony takes a turn kissing and cooing how good he is. It’s silly, he wants to laugh, he wants to _cry_ , and he almost stops himself but when it’s just too overwhelming and it all comes out they both hold onto him tighter and all three whisper how much they love one another and how fucking great they each are. It’s only times like these that Clint can ever truly accept that without question, and he lets himself bask in it as Phil finishes inside him and they lay tangled together afterwards. 

 

They both clean Clint up, giggly and weepy and too floppy to do it himself, wrung out completely, drying him off with the softest towels so he’s not overstimulated further. They make him drink this big thing of milk, and there’s always food but he’s not hungry. Tomorrow he’ll be ravenous, when he’s woken up and this all seems ridiculous and impossible and so not _them_ ; the tail end of this strange, warm little thing where Phil and Tony make coffee and feed Clint breakfast in bed. They’ll lay around and be handsy and sweet til Tony gets absorbed in something or other, Phil pulls out some paperwork and the range calls it’s siren’s song to Clint.

 

The three of them fall into bed, Clint nestled between his two perfect sweethearts as he drifts away into a deep, dreamless sleep.


End file.
